


Syncopation

by moonrise31



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: F/F, ot5 for the win
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrise31/pseuds/moonrise31
Summary: After Seungwan falls backstage, Joohyun is forced into finally facing some important decisions.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Son Seungwan | Wendy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 132
Collections: #GGFLASHFIC





	Syncopation

**Author's Note:**

> really coming in down to the wire here, but i made it yay 
> 
> please enjoy!!

Seungwan looks so tiny in the spotless white bed, the multiple beeping monitors and an IV drip standing like sentinels over her motionless form, that Joohyun can’t help but excuse herself almost immediately after entering the room.

The entire hospital is illuminated in the same harsh light. Joohyun paces the hallways, looking for a snack bar or some other suitable excuse for why she’s wandering out here instead of sitting with the rest of her members while the doctor delivers his diagnosis. It’s the buzzing fluorescent panels above that are making her eyes water, she thinks, and not the sight of Seungwan’s eyes flickering open just in time to catch Joohyun leaving.

She does find a vending machine nestled in the far corner of the opposite wing. Joohyun fumbles in her purse, counting coins into her palm while she scans the drink brands for something that doesn’t sound too much like diabetes in a bottle. She settles on one with a blue label, inserting the proper change into the receiving slot one clink at a time.

“There you are, unnie.”

Joohyun isn’t terribly surprised that Yerim is the one to run her down. They all let Yerim get away with too much, her impish smile and dancing eyes refusing to mature even as they’ve grown from the company’s rookie girl group into one of the industry’s untouchable veterans.

“It’s nice of you to get Seungwan-unnie a drink.” Yerim isn’t grinning now, and the drooping corners of her lips and the wrinkles in her forehead suddenly make Joohyun realize that at the end of the day, Yerim is an adult, after all. 

Joohyun looks down at the bottle in her hand, the condensation clinging to her fingers in a cold sweat. “Yeah, I just thought I would.”

“She was wondering where you’d gone,” Yerim says, and Joohyun can’t even hate how she sounds like she knows exactly what had driven Joohyun out of that room in the first place. “I told her I’d come find you.”

Joohyun offers a quick smile. “Well, you did. We can head back now.”

“Okay,” says Yerim. She loops their elbows together as they re-enter the hallway, edging to one side so they don’t cause trouble for any of the doctors and nurses rushing by. Joohyun can hear Yerim’s brain working furiously, trying to put into words what she can so clearly read in between the deliberately impassive lines of Joohyun’s face. Joohyun straightens her features anyway, slipping further into the expression she often faces the public with as if it can stop Yerim, too, from asking questions.

Yerim is wise beyond her years; but when all is said and done, she’s still the youngest. Joohyun is thankful that she ends up not saying anything at all, instead only tightening her hold on Joohyun’s arm as they step into Seungwan’s room.

Seulgi and Sooyoung are seated by the window, idly chatting with Seungwan now that she is awake. She’s even sitting up, propped by two large pillows as she lifts an arm stiffly to greet Joohyun. “Hey, unnie.”

“Hi,” Joohyun breathes, and Yerim lets go of her as she steps forward to offer the drink in her free hand. “How are you feeling? I thought you might be thirsty.”

“I’ve been better,” Seungwan admits cheerfully. Her smile brightens as she accepts the bottle. “Thanks, unnie. You got my favorite!”

Joohyun manages a nod as she sinks into the chair by the bedside. Yerim sits down next to her, immediately reaching out to help when Seungwan’s trembling fingers can’t seem to get a firm enough grip around the cap.

Joohyun watches, fists white-knuckling in her lap whenever her eyes land on a visible swathe of the bandages now encircling Seungwan’s body. To Joohyun, it looks less like a repair and more like a chokehold. The hospital room is so bright, the sting of it reflecting off the crisp bed sheets and the linoleum beneath her shoes -- and Joohyun wonders why the universe had only chosen now to rid the world of shadows instead of a few hours earlier, backstage at the music show.

She should have yelled at someone. She should have said something when she’d noticed that the stage was too high, that the platform was already wobbling under any one person’s weight during rehearsals. She should have been the first one to find out that Seungwan had fallen, and the first to shout for help until a staff member finally realized that something had gone horribly wrong.

Instead, Joohyun sits silently by Seungwan’s hospital bed, her wallet three thousand won lighter. Yerim’s hand rests firmly on her knee, as if she’s afraid that Joohyun will once again disappear when Seungwan needs her the most.

Seungwan takes a large gulp of her drink, swallowing and giving Joohyun the goofiest grin and an exaggerated thumbs-up, and Joohyun wants to cry.

\--

Joohyun throws herself into their subunit practice with a vigor she hasn’t managed to maintain since her trainee days. But dancing with Seulgi has always been the most fluid clockwork. When it’s just the two of them, Joohyun doesn’t have to worry about making mistakes -- her limbs are loose, her brain focusing on nothing else except weaving herself into Seulgi’s rhythm just as Seulgi matches perfectly to hers.

“You seem less sad these days, unnie,” Seulgi pants out during one of their breaks. “I’m glad.”

Joohyun knows exactly what Seulgi is talking about, but dares to continue the conversation anyway. “What do you mean?”

Seulgi shoots her a look, and skepticism normally looks funny on a face that melts so easily into kindness. But Seulgi means business, and her usual cheek is nowhere to be found as she says, “it’s okay to still be worried, unnie.”

Joohyun manages the briefest of grins. “I know that.”

“It’s hard for everyone,” Seulgi continues. “Seungwan has to worry about getting better, and also about not worrying us. But meanwhile, we have to worry about her getting better, and also about her worrying.”

Seulgi is usually more eloquent than this, but it’s the bare truth of it that immediately makes Joohyun sigh, shoulders slumping. “It’s a lot for all of us. She’s going to need months to recover properly, and nothing will feel right until then.”

“I know,” says Seulgi, and her voice is soothing even if her words aren’t. “I’m just saying that you don’t need to worry about anything extra.”

“Yeah,” Joohyun says, getting to her feet. “There’s nothing I could have done.” She knows the truth of this now, too. But a pesky little feeling continues to grind against her brain, like an earworm of a song that she just can’t seem to shake.

Seulgi nods emphatically. She stands up and follows Joohyun to the center of the practice room. 

The music blasts from the speakers, echoing off the walls at a volume that Joohyun is sure the entire building will be able to hear. Seulgi hits every beat while Joohyun nails every step; their success is enough for her to ignore the heaviness that has returned to her limbs, settling deeply into the marrow of her weary bones.

\--

“Seungwan-unnie went to bed already.”

Joohyun turns away from the empty couch to stare at Sooyoung. The television is still rolling the credits for the music show she and Seulgi had pre-recorded for earlier that day. Seulgi had called the bathroom first upon returning to the dorm, which left Joohyun standing in the living room with no one but Sooyoung to witness the latest lapse in her defenses.

“She watched you guys, of course,” says Sooyoung, both hands wrapped around the mug of whatever warm drink she’d been preparing for herself in the kitchen just minutes before. “I’m pretty sure that she sees you more on-screen than in-person, nowadays.”

“Our schedules are packed,” Joohyun says immediately. “She barely sees Seulgi, either, and they’re roommates.”

“I’m not saying that it’s your fault, unnie.” Sooyoung’s tone is mild, but her eyes catch Joohyun’s with a steely glint. “You seem to be doing a fine enough job of that on your own.”

Joohyun’s hands twitch at her sides. She’s been able to studiously avoid this conversation for weeks now -- mostly because Seulgi is too nice to start it, and Yerim wouldn’t know how to begin, and Seungwan --

Joohyun hasn’t been giving Seungwan any chances to try, just in case.

“She misses you, unnie,” says Sooyoung, gently now. “Not in the I-can’t-wait-until-we’re-five sort of way, because we all know that will happen as soon as she completes her physical therapy. And I know that you’re not avoiding her just because you feel misplaced guilt about not having been able to save her from falling in the first place.”

Out of everyone, Sooyoung has always been the least afraid of confrontation. It’s just as well that she ended up not being the youngest; even when they officially numbered only four, Sooyoung had never seemed willing to let the others baby her like usual group dynamics dictated. Years later, she continues to toe the line between clever and disrespectful, and Joohyun isn’t sure whether it’s her own soft spot for Sooyoung or Sooyoung’s hardheadedness that pushes Joohyun into relenting, time and time again.

“I’ve been scared of losing her,” Joohyun finally admits. And it’s so quiet that she’s afraid she’s only thought of it, and will have to say it for Sooyoung another time. 

“Well,” Sooyoung says after a lengthy pause. “She’s been scared that she’s already lost you.”

Joohyun stills. The television switches to a succession of brightly colored commercials, and the accompanying bouncy narrations distort the thickened air between them. Then Sooyoung steps forward, and coaxes Joohyun into a careful hug.

In the end, Sooyoung says the most without saying anything at all. Because when she pulls away, Joohyun’s trembling heart has nothing left to hold it together, and instead bursts into something that refuses to be ignored any longer.

\--

Seungwan glows so radiantly from her perch on the stage, warm and happy underneath the mellowed studio lights, that Joohyun can’t help but stare. 

They’ve already recorded the song a week or so ago, but a music video to announce Seungwan’s return will set minds to rest much more than a faceless soundtrack ever will. The director has arranged them in a line with Joohyun at the center, Seulgi seated in between her and Seungwan on the far left end.

Joohyun thinks that she’s done a good job of not looking too much while filming. And if the camera happens to catch her gaze on Seungwan yet again, she takes comfort in the fact that she isn’t the only one -- Yerim is practically vibrating in her stool to Joohyun’s right, Seulgi is positively beaming, and even Sooyoung can’t hold back her own wide smile whenever it’s Seungwan’s turn to sing.

They wrap the shoot in just a few takes, but linger as the crew takes some time to make sure they’ve gotten everything. Joohyun is studiously listening to their discussion while monitoring the replays on one of the many screens overhead, and so doesn’t notice that it’s Seungwan who tugs at her hand until she’s already been dragged to the edge of the muted bustle collected inside of the studio.

“Hey, unnie,” says Seungwan, eyes glittering as she smiles. 

“Hi,” Joohyun says, and her grip on Seungwan’s hand tightens.

Seungwan laughs lightly, glancing down at their interlocked fingers. “Do I have something on my face?”

Joohyun blinks. And then she takes the chance to unabashedly take in Seungwan’s crinkling eyes, and how the lights shine a soft halo onto her now uncolored hair. “No, I don’t see anything.”

“I was just checking.” Seungwan shrugs. “Every time I looked up while we were filming, you were always staring.”

Joohyun swallows the choking panic rising in her throat, coughing delicately into her fist instead. “It’s just good to see you on stage, again. We were all staring, I’m sure.”

Seungwan chuckles. “Yeah, you all were.” Her gaze remains fixed on their still joined hands. 

“I’m glad that you’re back,” says Joohyun. But the words don’t fit quite right, and her tongue is clumsy as she tries to force them out.

Seungwan finally looks up. She tilts her head. “I never left, you know.”

“I know,” Joohyun says. She runs her thumb across the back of Seungwan’s hand before she tries again. “I meant that -- I’m glad that you’re here.”

“I’m glad that you’re here, too,” says Seungwan, tentative. She even loosens her hold: an opening for Joohyun to step away, just as she’s always done.

And Joohyun does slip her hand out of Seungwan’s. But then Joohyun steps forward, wrapping her arms around Seungwan and pulling her close. She rests her chin on Seungwan’s shoulder, staring for a moment into the shadows of the studio’s backstage. 

She feels the shift just before Seungwan’s arms slowly come up to circle her waist, and Joohyun allows herself a second to shut her eyes and breathe. Because Seungwan is here, as she always has been, and the world will never be rid of shaky ground and obscured intentions.

But Joohyun is tired of leaving. And now, as each inhale presses her against Seungwan’s exhale, their heartbeats spiking into one seamless cadence -- Joohyun dares to think that in the future, some things will be different.


End file.
